Reflections

Tuesday, March 28, 2017

Good day, Mr. and Ms. (or whatever you are) horror fan and lover of silly monsters. Your mission, should you care to watch, is to take a gander at silly monsters in even sillier movies. As always, should you be caught dead watching this stuff, your friendly neighborhood IMS team (Impossibly Monstrous Silliness) will step in with the usual excuses and denials to save you from utter embarrassment and the requisite shunning by your decidedly smarter horror peers.

I’m not sure what is worse, silly monsters or silly movies, but when you find that particular gem—the silly monster in a silly movie—consider your day a complete success (or waste of time depending on your disposition). MGM’s The Green Slime is one such gem that still glitters in its ineptitude and awkwardness well after its first temeritous run in 1968. And that was right after MGM had released 2001: A Space Odysseytoo; what a contrast! The Green Slime even has the distinction of being the first movie mocked with mirth by the crew of Mystery Science Theater 3000 in 1988, in the pilot episode for KTMA television. Joel Hodgson aired this proof of concept at the Archon32 convention in 2012.

Toei Company and director Kinji Fukassaku share the blame for this oddity of flora (or is it fauna?) germinating on an asteroid named Flora that is hurtling toward earth in OMG! it will be here in 12 hours hurtling to earth urgency. A team of astronauts fly over from the local space station, plant explosives on the asteroid, and make sure to splatter through all the green slime they find clinging to their vehicles. The little muck hitches a ride back to the space station with them. Much hilarious mayhem ensues as it grows up.

At this point you have a few choices: you can heighten—or deaden—the effect of all this inanity by a judicious alcoholic drink or two, imbibed while viewing this movie at regular speed, or you can simply speed it up 2x for a better, more Looney Tunes comedic effect. You have not seen futuristic space station dancing until you’ve seen it at 2x speed. Trust me on this.

While you are doing that, feel free to rewind all the atrocious special effects, again and again, to satisfy your need for chuckles. There are miniatures so mesmerizingly badly constructed, and painted, they look like they were done by a 1960s monsterkid doing his or her first Aurora model kit with that crappy tube of not-glue replacement they stuck model builders with after some dopes started sniffing the real stuff. All this bad science fiction set design and prop building was then highlighted by poor camera angles and inconsiderate lighting, creating an overall feeling of oh my word, that’s depressingly annoying, especially when you realize it was done by professionals who knew better. Maybe they sniffed too much model glue themselves? Worse are the balsa wood and cardboard props that look and wobble just like poorly constructed props do when actors pretend to use them. Or breathe too heavily on them. Maybe worse is the crazy futuristic costuming that is non-functional and anachronistic, like helmets that look pretty silly on grown men.

The piece de resistance is the green slime itself: a pretty well conceived green crusty goo that sprouts into pretty awfully realized solid, rubbery, monsters waving their non-functional tentacles around in unison like they are doing the wave at a sporting event. If that were not enough to shield your eyes right then and there and make you reach for a Freddy or Jason disc, their irritating high-pitched eeeehhh! electrocution of anyone in hugging distance of those flubbery tentacles is jaw dropping to watch.

Even as a kid, when my dad took me to see this clunker at the Loew’s Oriental Theater in Brooklyn, I knew it was the silliest movie I had ever seen up until then. I couldn’t sink into my theater seat any farther as I looked around to make sure none of my school chums were in the audience. I had a reputation to uphold, you know. Luckily, they avoided this one like the plague.

“The ludicrous monsters are a model of bad design. The four-foot tall, bipedal, bell-shaped creatures have a single [fixed] red eye in the center of their bodies, set in a lip-shaped socket.” (Japanese Science Fiction, Fantasy and Horror Films)

According to some sources, kids were hired to play the monsters, which may explain why the choreography looks like a school play-ish attempt at portraying menacing monsters aboard a space station. After a futile and rather funny attempt to throw a net over one of them, all hell breaks loose and the already narrow corridors of the space station get even more impossible to maneuver as people try to avoid the green slime AND being run over by the absurdly large and completely unnecessary vehicles (well one, actually, being used again and again to trim the budget) being driven around for absolutely no reason whatsoever. A badly painted and constructed space station golf cart with a mechanical arm that couldn’t possibly be of any use in the narrow corridors or cramped rooms, just there to fill set space and run over fleeing men. It’s awesome! Of course, running down the green slimers would have been a bit more sensible, but you can’t expect sense in a silly movie can you?

The special effects were perpetrated by Akira Watanabe and Yukio Manoda. They’ve done better work. Robert Horton as Commander Rankin also has done better work (Alfred Hitchcock Presents for one example). Sparring with him over testosterone levels and the beautiful Lucianna Paluzzi (Thunderball) is Richard Jaeckel (The Dirty Dozen and Sands of Iwo Jima). The Americanized version leaves in the endless minutes of their romantic and macho bickering over Ms. Paluzzi and who will take control of the situation; the Japanese version wisely leaves this crap out entirely, making the movie less of an ordeal to sit through. But it’s still an ordeal, albeit a carnival ride for those so inclined.

But if you’re planning a silly monster in a silly movie party, one clunker is not enough. So here’s another gem to be treasured from the science fiction cycle of the 1950s. Any top ten list of the silliest of the sillies would invariably have the so-bad-it’s-legendary The Giant Claw (1957), produced by Sam Katzman and directed by Fred F. Sears. Jumping on the antimatter bandwagon circulating at the time, some bright bulbs (not to tattle, but they would be Samuel Newman and Paul Gangelin) lit up a script with a giant, prehistoric outer space bird that comes to earth and flies around with an antimatter bubble that resists military weapons and good taste.

“The Giant Clawseemed to initially have a sensible premise as well as a good storyline. The concept of antimatter was a plausible scientific theory at the time and attempting to depict it on the screen wasn't far beyond the realm of believability. We were told that the giant bird was supposed to be a sort of streamlined hawk that could travel at supersonic speeds. We weren't shown any sketches of it. The first time I saw the film I was in a theater with friends, I believe, in Westwood. During the screening all was going well until that big bird first appeared on the screen. The audience was howling. Every time it reappeared I just sank lower and lower into my seat. Whenever I attended a film, that I appeared in, with family and friends, it was customary to gather in the lobby and discuss it afterwards. In the case of The Giant Claw I couldn't face anyone and discretely slipped out one of the rear exits.” (Jeff Morrow, as told to Professor Kinema, Interview with Jeff Morrow)

Contrary to Jeff Morrow’s take on the movie, and, let’s face it, he was in the thick of it back then so had to find some rationale to smooth things over, there is no sensible premise or storyline to be found here. None at all. A big bird from an antimatter galaxy wings its way through the vacuum of space, with its invisible antimatter force field to boot, to chow down on people, planes, and New York buildings (such as the Empire State Building and United Nations Headquarters). The tour de force here is the realized “streamlined hawk,” as big as a battleship and 4x faster than the speed of sound (as stated in the movie pressbook). Katzman, in order to shave off some dinero from the budget (although he’s quoted as saying he spent most of the budget on the special effects), decided not to use Ray Harryhausen and instead sent the special effects work over to a small studio in Mexico. Very small apparently, overseen by Ralph Hammeras and George Teague.

What they got back was a marionette. A hilariously ugly wonder that had googly eyes, flaring beak nostrils (that’s right, beaks don’t have flaring nostrils), raggedy feathers and wisps of hair glued on here and there, and way oversized claws. In scenes, it glided more than moved its wings and made turns just like a puppet dangling from strings would do. And while the movie scenes were played straight by the actors to what they imagined would eventually appear on screen, theater audiences who did get to see the monster couldn’t hold back the jeers and laughter.

The pressbook has a coloring page (which could be printed in the local newspapers) that leaves out the head of the monster. The rest of the drawing shows an eagle’s or hawk’s body. The poster art shows an illustration of the flying bird from the back, which also looks like an eagle or a hawk, just awfully bigger than usual. Apparently the special effects people didn’t look at the poster art for guidance. What they delivered was a cartoony buzzard and turkey hybrid with a goofy vulture face only a silly monster lover could find appealing. Spending its time devouring cheap miniatures with its craggly teeth (that’s right, beaks don’t have teeth), and dangling in front of a process screen showing background projection, the overall effect is entertaining for all the wrong reasons. They even managed to lift some of Ray Harryhausen’s work from Earth vs. the Flying Saucers along with enough stock footage to open a warehouse. Perfect.

“Producer Sam Katzman, who entered the movie business as a prop boy at the age of 13, must have felt he had let down the prop profession after seeing the final cut. His Giant Claw, both the bird and the film, were major flops.” (Cheap Tricks and Class Acts: Special Effects, Makeup, and Stunts from the Fantastic Fifties)

But the icing on the cake is the silly story. Not only do we have the so-bad-it-hurts creature letdown, but we also get the pseudo-scientific finger flipping the bird at us through a lengthy discussion of atoms, particle physics, and how they will penetrate the antimatter shield so they can cook the bird. The short answer? A stream of high speed mesonic atoms is shot at the Giant Claw to destabilize its antimatter shield so weapons can penetrate. What do we actually see on screen? Puffs of white smoke coming out of the tail end of a wobbly miniature plane.

Did I mention Mara Corday stars as a systems analyst? It doesn’t help the script so maybe we should skip that.

Sunday, May 15, 2016

This article first appeared in We Belong Dead magazine, issue 18, available now. I'll be writing Son of Seriously Silly Monsters for issue 19, and another, and another. There are so many silly monsters, you know, to be serious about...

What actually constitutes a silly monster in movies can be fairly puzzling when you think about it. Sure, you have the seriously silly ones like the walking tree stump, Tabanga, in From Hell It Came, but then there are the intentionally silly creatures like the giant voracious tomatoes in Attack of the Killer Tomatoes! So should we consider the serious sillies or the intentional sillies when it comes to compiling a list?

Tough decision to make. Both can be a lot of fun to ridicule or chuckle at as we fondly recall them or argue over them. Complicating it all, what do you do with movies like The Amazing Colossal Man, where the atomically mutated soldier, who grows bigger than a redwood tree, is not nearly as silly as that giant hypodermic needle plunged into his ankle (a silly prop), or the two men staggering as they hold it (a silly scene), or the poor guy impaled by it when the colossal man gets ticked off by getting jabbed with a giant needle in his giant ankle (a really silly scene)? All very silly when you think about it, true, but we must come to some decision here, otherwise our list will be bigger than him.

I know, let us go with the monsters some knucklehead convinced the clearer-thinking members of a production crew to go ahead and film, the so-obviously-rubbery-fakeries to anyone who hasn’t downed a pint or two, all those malevolent aliens, terrifying mutations, and bug-eyed monsters (both large and small), whose intended victims would be more likely to die from laughing at seeing them rather than being harmed. Maybe it was due to a low budget, or maybe it was the lack of proper oversight in art direction (or too much from the wrong person), or maybe, just maybe, it was the culmination of a harebrained scheme born out of desperation; whatever the reason, I think we can all agree to love these what-were-they-thinking? monstrosities with a cozy sense of bewilderment and satisfaction.

We all have pet choices, but here is the start of my list of the all-time seriously silliest monsters in no particular order.

Giant Spider in Mesa of Lost Women: What can you say about a giant spider with eight legs that do not move, yet can kill people without any effort? It does makes for a great photo op with Tandra Quinn, and at least, much humor ensues with one fellow jumping toward the comatose giant spider when he sees it. Usually, victims run the other way but not here. This one gets my seriously silly stamp of approval.

Tabanga in From Hell It Came: High on anyone’s list of seriously silly monsters should be Tabanga. I admit I am a bit torn over this one: I like the storyline and the concept; it is the execution that falls short. Tabanga falls into the slow as molasses category of walking terrors (like in the later Mummy series, but I like the Mummy movies so you won’t see Kharis on this list, no way), and cannot help but bring chuckles as he ploddingly kills people with his, mostly, immobile limbs. For a “half-human animal-stump that grows from a dead native” (according to one pressbook for the movie), he’s a bit too wooden for any real frights. Apparently none of the production crew noticed. The pressbook goes on to list Tabanga’s height at a lumbering 14 feet and misprints his name as Taranga (an actual Maori demi-god). I do not believe anyone noticed the height difference or the name change or cared to.

Jellyfish Man in Sting of Death: There are so many aquatic silly monsters, where does one begin? Why, with Jelly Fish Man of course! How can you not rate a wetsuited jellyfish-headed man at the top of any list? Once again a mad scientist creates a mutant on a budget, saving a penny or two by using clothes. Remember the Metaluna Mutant? Wearing pants from the waist down we could not tell if he had nards, but more importantly, it saved a lot of money on creating more creature costume. Like an alien in an Irwin Allen television production, or a H.R. Pufnstuff reject, Jellyfish Man is colorful in concept but flat in appearance. The purple plastic bag for a head does its best to sell the jellyfish monster aspect like no other prop can. Sadly, it does not work. More horrifying are the beach scenes with their jiggling bikini bums in a panic as the smaller jellyfish (smaller sized plastic bags) attack.

Kooky Monster in Creature from the Haunted Sea: I am not one to nitpick a master like Roger Corman or his movies, but I wonder what he and the production crew were smoking (or drinking) at the time Kooky Monster hit the storyboards. If you took Oscar the Grouch, bashed him numerous times with a frayed mop that had Brillo pads stuck in it, then stuck two tennis balls into his eye-sockets, you would pretty much wind up with Kooky Monster. In some scenes you can see glimpses of human under the costume when skin shows between the costume’s too-short sleeves and pipe-cleaner tipped gloves.

Here is a knowledge nugget from Mark Thomas McGee’s Roger Corman: The Best of the Cheap Acts. “Roger [Corman] was in Havana with Bernard and Larry Woolner, hoping to make a movie for Cuban Color Films, when Fidel Castro took over the town. The sound of machine gun fire in the middle of the night and the report the next morning that people had been gunned down in the streets sent Roger and the Woolners back to New Orleans where things were a little safer. This horrendous event was the inspiration for Creature from the Haunted Sea…”

With this movie considered to be one of Corman’s comedies, you could argue this silly monster falls into the intentionally silly category, so it would be excluded from this list. But it is so outrageously poor in appearance, and given that this movie vacillates in its tone and mood between comedy and seriousness toward confusion as to its actual intent, I bent the rule a tad here.

Beulah (aka Tee-Pee Terror, Cucumber Critter, Carrot Monster, Denny Dimwit) in It Conquered the World: 1950s science fiction movies had so many silly monsters to make fun of for sure, but there’s something so engagingly bewildering about Roger Corman’s decision to let this Venusian alien run amok (more like roll slowly, actually) before a camera. Were merchandising a consideration at the time, I will say it does make for quite a cool toy to threaten your Major Matt Masons or Space 1999 action figures with, especially with those mind-controlling little bat-like floppy fliers (launched from a place on its conical body that will remain unmentioned here), and its long, but rigid, arms.

Both Paul Blaisdell, who built Beulah, and Corman, who came up with the design, share in the awkward result. As related in Roger Corman: TBOTCA, “Actually, the original idea for that design was mine and I was playing too much back to my early physics classes. Again, this was a long time ago and I don’t remember exactly but to the best of my knowledge, it was supposed to have come from a very big planet. Therefore, obviously, it would have a very heavy gravity; any creature on such a planet would be built very low to the ground. There’s something to the concept of fear in looking up to something bigger or taller.”

Blaisdell added the vegetable slant. Using plywood and foam rubber, then taking a hammer to the too smooth surface to give the ‘skin’ some texture, he created his Venusian concept of “a hyper-intelligent mushroom.”

Wednesday, March 16, 2016

New York, NY, March 16, 2016 – The Old School Kung Fu Fest, a three-day barrage of the rarest, wildest, and most incredible classic martial arts and action movies is back for its 6th annual edition.

This year, we’re focusing on Golden Harvest, the studio that became Hong Kong’s leading purveyor of truly insane action cinema in the 70’s, 80’s, and 90’s.

Established in 1970 by Raymond Chow and Leonard Ho, Golden Harvest fast became a rival to Shaw Brothers with a string of blockbusters in the 1970s, and went on to became a dominant force in the Hong Kong film industry throughout the 80’s and 90’s, producing, financing, and distributing over 600 films across many genres. The studio has nurtured the talents of Bruce Lee, John Woo, Michael Hui, Stanley Kwan, Jimmy Wang Yu, Jackie Chan, Sammo Hung, Angela Mao, and many others.

To celebrate Golden Harvest’s legacy, we have put together a program of some of the studio’s greatest martial arts and action films: we’ve got Bruce Lee’s funkadelic masterpiece Enter The Dragon (1973); the original One-Armed Swordsman (Jimmy Wang Yu) and the one-off James Bond (George Lazenby) going mano-a-mano in the car crashtastic The Man From Hong Kong (1975); Sammo Hung and Yuen Biao in martial arts action paradise with The Prodigal Son (1981); Sammo Hung directing and starring in Pedicab Driver (1989), the greatest achievement of his early career; Jackie Chan fighting a big yellow hovercraft in Rumble in the Bronx (1995); Tsui Hark’s feral swordplay movie The Blade (1996); and the last truly great Hong Kong cop film of the 90s, Big Bullet (1996). All the titles (except Prodigal Son) will be super-rare 35mm screenings!*

In other exciting news for fans of Hong Kong cinema, Warner Archive has begun to make Golden Harvest titles available as part of their manufacture on demand service. 16x9 widescreen DVDs in their original language with English captions can be ordered for the discerning film fan’s collection. Titles include A Terra-Cotta Warrior (1989), He's a Woman, She's a Man (1994), The Blade (1995), Pedicab Driver (1989), Blade of Fury (1993), Big Bullet (1996) and Downtown Torpedoes(1997) - and these few are just the beginning!

Monday, August 03, 2015

Yes, August is here. And with it the summer doldrums intensify along with the heat, the warm ennui increasing as it wafts on the occasional breeze, the laconic malaise growing twixt the brightness of Spring and the promise of the festive Fall (Halloween, baby!) But whenever you're feeling down, just remember these poor bastards, who toiled away in the heat and humidity just for you to complete that jungle picture, dressed in thick, furry, (and probably very itchy) gorilla costumes. Pictures we love to love--or make fun of (alright, I admit it, I love them anyway). I bet you're feeling cooler already.

The Clarence Swensen Gorilla Group with Johnny Weissmuller (http://www.erbzine.com/mag41/4169.html)

Wednesday, April 29, 2015

Zombos' Closet...a vast trove of endearingly cheap thrills, including movie and book reviews, and scans of his collections of cinema pressbooks, goofy paper-cutout Halloween decorations, and his amazing collection of Mexican lobby cards from B-grade films. If you have time to descend into a serious rabbit-hole of marvelous trash-culture nostalgia, visit that site just as soon as you possibly can. (DangerousMinds.net)

Tuesday, March 10, 2015

Link checking last night (I know, I need to get out more) I came across this interview with David Colton I did for Blogcritics, back in 2007 (when the Fifth Annual Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards was in full swing). Amazingly, I hadn't copied the interview to my own blog since it first appeared, so here it is for you newbies to the Rondos. And to think we're at the 13th annual Rondos! My how time flies like a bat out of hell, doesn't it?

What time is it, Monsterkids? It's Rondos time!

Once again, classic horror is celebrated with the likeness of that ugly, but lovable, bald guy — with the huge, misshapen, head and massive hands. Rondo "The Creeper" Hatton thrilled me as he tried to twist Basil Rathbone's Sherlock Holmes into a pretzel in Pearl of Death, and chilled me as he murdered off a bunch of annoying critics in House of Horrors. His unmistakable visage graces the Classic Horror Awards, affectionately known as the Rondos, which are given in recognition of notable achievements in the classic horror genre. Chief instigator of the Rondos is David Colton. I locked him in Zombos' closet until he agreed to talk about the award that everyone in classic horror craves.

What are the Rondo Hatton Classic Horror Awards, and how did they come about?

DC: The Rondos are a fan-based awards program designed to honor the fans and pros who work hard year after year, through writing, through research, through illustration, or through any form of creativity to keep the classic monsters of the last century alive and well.

The Rondos are not about favorite monster, or even favorite horror movie, but about picking the best book about classic monsters, the smartest piece of research that reveals something new, or the strongest or most fun works that capture the spirit of being a monster kid.

By "monster kid," I mean the generation of baby boomers who discovered the classic films of Universal, AIP, Hammer and Japanese giants in the '50s and '60s through Shock Theater on TV, Famous Monsters of Filmland at the newsstand, and Christopher Lee and Vincent Price at the movies. Monster kids can be of any age, but the distinction with modern horror fans is that we embrace Frankenstein, Dracula and Godzilla over the more gory films of today. This is not to say we don't enjoy Jason or Saw, but our hearts lie in Transylvania.

As for the awards themselves, like many lapsed monster fans, I rediscovered the genre in the mid-'80s with the birth of home video. A new breed of monster magazines such as Filmfax and Cinefantastique had emerged. In addition, writers such as David J. Skal, Greg Mank, Tom Weaver, Gary Don Rhodes, Don Glut, Bill Warren, Paul Jensen, and many more were revealing new truths about the monsters in books, in magazine articles, and in videos and, later, DVD commentaries.

There was little recognition anywhere for their work, however, which was as strong as any mainstream research or scholarship except it existed in the genre ghetto of vampires and B-movies. Enter the Rondos.

I remembered that in the '90s, the folks at Midnight Marquee had presented a series of awards at their Fanex Convention called the Laemmles, named after the family that ran Universal in the '20s and '30s. The awards only lasted a few years. But a community of fans at the Classic Horror Film Board (a discussion group once at AOL), decided to inaugurate our own awards. We started in 2002, and the awards have grown and prospered ever since.

Why use actor Rondo Hatton as the award image?

DC: We discussed a variety of names — the Clives, the Ygors, the Whales — but someone, I forget who (it might have been me but I'm not sure), suggested Rondo Hatton. The Rondos SOUNDED perfect.

Still, it was all just fanboy talk until Kerry Gammill, a brilliant artist who once drew Superman, and is one of the genre's top illustrators, sent me a sketch of what a Rondo statuette could actually look like, based on the giant bust of Hatton used in Universal's House of Horrors in 1946. Once I saw the sketch, I said yes, of course.

Kerry sculpted the bust to perfection, and then Tim Lindsey, a top model-maker and designer, offered to make the casts for the individual busts.

I still remember the gasps and applause when we gave out the first awards at the Old Dark Clubhouse hotel room at the 2003 Monster Bash in Pittsburgh. "Our first winner is Bob Burns," I said, "and THIS is a Rondo." Everyone fell in love with the little guy immediately.

Even though they are painstaking to make — each one is cast and painted individually — we've now given out almost 50 busts over the past four years. Everyone who gets one loves it. Haven't seen one on eBay yet, they are so precious to the winners.

Looking over the ballot for this year, I'm excited to see Smallville (one of my favorite TV shows), Dr. Who (ditto), and Battlestar Galactica listed (ditto again). How are nominees selected?

DC: We try to go a bit beyond just classic monsters, so current films and TV are included. "Classic" is a state of mind more than a time period, and it's easy to see why Smallville or Battlestar Galactica or Dr. Who, as modernized as they are, still retain that "classic" feel. Lost and Heroes, too.

Nominees are solicited all year at the Classic Horror Film Board or through emails. At the end of the year, I start going over everything, and about 20 CHFB members email one another, argue things out, make suggestions and deletions. In the end, though, I make the final call on what makes it and what doesn't. Send those complaints to me!

The ballot is very long — some say too long — but we want the Rondos to not only be about the year's best work, but to show everyone how much really cool work is being done out there. A book or DVD commentary might not win, but those who see it on the ballot may be intrigued enough to buy it and check it out. If that happens, Rondo has done its job, no matter who ends up winning.

Who does the voting?

DC: Voting is by email to taraco@aol.com. We have discussed using voting software that allows clicking on categories, but the personal nature of having to copy the ballot into an email, or type out your selections, helps ensure the voting is by fans and not some mass voting drive. It's for sure okay to ask for votes or urge friends to vote, but we draw the line at duplicate votes already filled in, which in past years got sent around. That happily hasn't happened yet this year.

The first year we were thrilled to have 198 people vote! The next year we topped 600, then 1,600 (!), and last year 1,200. The voting so far this year is at a pace to top 1,000 again and that's fine with me since I have to hand count every vote. Friends come over and say, "Where's David?" and my wife says, "He's downstairs counting votes.'' They laugh.

Finally, what's your impression of the current crop of horror films?

DC: The world of modern horror, sci fi, and fantasy is very schizophrenic. On the one hand you have the CGI world of Star Wars and Peter Jackson, wonderful visions of fantasy that, overblown or not, recreate '30s New York for King Kong, energize Star Wars and make anything possible on-screen. And these films have good hearts, just as afternoon kid-friendly in many ways as the Harryhausens and George Pals of the '60s.

But then there's the gruesome new trend of torture films — Saw, Hostel, Turista and the like — which have no real monsters except human cruelty. These films make millions, and obviously are a form of release perhaps in this 9/11 mindset, but still leave me repelled and quite cold. An ax through the head in Friday the 13th somehow was okay, and you could tell it was fake; these new ones are too real, the blood too dark, the screams too affecting. I'll take Karloff anytime.

Do you think Zombos' Closet of Horror will ever have a chance at getting a Rondo?

DC: No comment.

I want to thank David Colton for stepping into the closet to tell us about the Rondos. Zombos insisted I keep him locked in until he gave us a Rondo, but someday we'll win one of those little noggins on our own

Thursday, January 01, 2015

I opened the door to Zombos' Closet 10 years ago, first to Blogspot in 2005, then a switch over to Typepad in 2006. I had two simple goals in mind: keep it commercial free (no blaring banners, no pop-up ads, no videos hawking crap), and keep it fun for you and me as I share my appreciation of the fantastique in film, literature, and popular culture. And, of course, show off my collection of cool stuff, too, while doing so. For posterity.

For me it keeps my inner monsterkid alive and kicking. For you I hope it does the same or will help you find your monsterkid, the one buried deep within all of us, often afraid to show itself. Or that imagi-movies kid in you. Or that Halloween-tripping kid in you. Or that pop-culture is cool as hell kid in you, devouring the geeky, the sublime, and the surreal, as a defense (and offensive blow) against the doldrums foisted on us by reality, constantly testing our resolve.

That resolve is to never forget that our imaginations keep reality in check. And today, reality needs to be put in check more often. When you apply your imagination to reality, you can bend that reality to your will for the betterment of yourself and everyone else, and that's truly fantastic. It's like body-blocking the hateful, the insipid, the mentally blind, and the determinedly evil folk among us who haven't a clue to share, let alone a sense of wonder for the beauty of the world we live in and our place in it. You know, the stuff that dreams are made of. We know all about that wonderful stuff because we're monsterkids, and sci-fi kids, and the why not? kids, always pushing back on greedy, selfish reality when others push it on us trying to beat our resolve down.

So embrace that sick feeling in the pit of your stomach, that creepy sensation on the back of your neck, or shudder away as you dread, in the dead of night, just what that sound is, or why your closet door is slightly, ever so slightly, open when you thought you had closed it. It's only the fantastique calling, daring you to dream of gods and demons, and everything else in-between, to bolster your fight against reality. To watch the stars and constantly say why not?

So another year, another opportunity to fight the good fight. And win.

Wednesday, December 31, 2014

In the early 1970s, John Moulder-Brown made his mark in horror films with starring roles in Vampire Circus and The House That Screamed, in which he chopped up some school girls and pieced them back together. In the critically acclaimed Deep End, he was Mike, a sexually disturbed teenager who murders the girl of his dreams in a half-filled swimming pool. In King, Queen, Nave he had a memorable encounter with Gina Lollobrigida, who also wound up dead, and in Ludwig he portrayed the mad brother of the crazed titular king. He’s played the handsome prince in Rumpelstiltskin and the concerned, and for once guiltless, husband in Agatha Christie’s Sleeping Murder.

I had the opportunity to interview Mr. Brown and here it is.

First things first, what led you to acting?

JMB: My parents split up when I was four. My mother wanted me to go to boarding school, my father wanted me to stay with him. He sent me to a private school, which was literally just around the corner from where we lived. They had a strong concentration on drama and, as a result of that, I fell into acting. My father had an army background. He was a major, but I had always wanted to be an actor. Through the school I worked as a child actor.

Friday, September 19, 2014

In the early 1990s I had researched background information for an article on the film Burn, Witch, Burn, which was to appear in FilmFax magazine. During my research I borrowed a 16mm print of the movie from film historian William K Everson. Everson and I got to talking about the specifics of the film and he suggested I get in touch with one of its screenwriters, George Baxt, who was, at the time, living in New York. His number was listed in the phone book. I called him and made an appointment to interview him. During two visits and a few follow-up phone calls we talked not only about Burn, Witch, Burn, but also touched upon the other genre films he was involved with. The article I eventually wrote regarding Burn, Witch, Burn ended up in Scarlet Street magazine instead of FilmFax.

My interview with this Edgar Award winning author turned into more of a general rap session where he shared his interesting insights and recollections for Circus of Horrors, Burn, Witch, Burn,Vampire Circus, The City of the Dead, and Shadow of the Cat. Within this article I’ve arranged Baxt’s insights and recollections according to each relevant movie discussed.

Monday, July 08, 2013

With the kind permission of Brian Bukantis (Arena Publishing) and the author Dr. Vollin (Freddie Poe), I'm happy to be able to reprint Dr. V's article, They Tore Down Paradise...And Put Up a Parking Lot, which originally appeared in the May issue of Movie Collector's World, No. 683, 2005. Here's Part 5.

Dr. Vollin (left) with Johnny Dee

I asked John “Who was the most impressive movie star you ever met?”

He told me he was never in awe of the actors or actresses he met. He always conducted himself as a professional and kept his cool around Hollywood bigwigs.

“Freddie, I always knew my place around these people. I was Johnny Dee, manager of the Poli Palace in downtown Worcester and they were Hollywood movie stars. I just always kept that perspective in mind. I catered to them and entertained them, but I didn’t throw myself at them. Get the picture?”

I asked John if he could remember a specific story he could tell me. He told me a lot of stories, but the one that stuck out in my mind was the day he spent entertaining Anthony Quinn who was doing a promotional tour in New Haven Connecticut.

“Loew’s contacted me and told me I would be taking Anthony Quinn around town. They told me to show Quinn some sites and see if there was anything special he wanted to do. So I asked Mr. Quinn if there was any place special he would like to go. Quinn asked if there were any art museums in the area? I brought him to the Yale Art Museum. He looked at all the artwork and then we left. On the way back, while crossing through the city’s commons, Quinn said, "Hey John, do you mind if I lie down under this tree for awhile?" I said, "No, of course not." "Quinn sat down on the grass under an elm tree, I sat down beside him and we just shot the breeze for awhile. Not that it was a big deal, but it’s a nice memory.”

“John, who was your favorite actor of all time?” I asked.

Johnny Dee with Anne Blythe

“I’d have to say Clark Gable, but I never met him in person. Robert Taylor was a great guy, he had it all. He had a great look too. We had Bob Hope here in Worcester in the 1970s. The mayor was giving him the Key To The City. Hope was going to perform at the Showcase and I was the Master Of Ceremonies. That was a terrible night, because when I came out onto the stage to introduce him, I looked out into the audience and it was empty, well not empty but there were many seats that were not filled. That was embarrassing. I mean, come on, it was Bob Hope. It should have been a full house.”

Next came the big question. “John did you save anything from the old Poli Palace, like the posters or stills, or anything like that?”

“No, I never did. I should have but I never did. One kid used to come to the Poli all the time and ask me for the movie posters. He wanted all the horror ones (Dr. V note: I know who that was). I used to give him stacks of the stuff. I mean, what did I care. I had piles of them all over the place and giving them away just meant that I would have smaller piles. Why? Are they worth anything?”

“Your kidding? I should have kept some, but to tell you the truth, I had some serious family matters to attend to at the time and saving movie posters never crossed my mind. My family was and is the most important thing in my life. All I was concerned with at the time was this matter. You understand. But when I go home, I’m gonna look around and see if I have anything.”

“John, one more thing: I was sick when they destroyed the Palace to make the Showcase. I can imagine how you felt.”

“You were sick, I was heartbroken. After all, that had been like home to me for almost 40 years. I had a lot of great memories there.” said John with a tear welling up in his eye.

The next morning I was sitting in Honey Dew waiting for John to show up. When he arrived he was carrying an old file folder. I greeted John as he entered. John put the folder down on the counter top.

“Freddie, I found these old photos I thought might interest you.”

I reached into the folder and pulled out a pile of black and white 8x10 photographs. John wasn’t kidding when he said he had met a plethora of stars. Here he was, Johnny Dee, rubbing elbows with Jayne Mansfield, Tina Louise, Ann Blythe, Denise Darcell, Rosemary LaPlanche, Lauren Bacall and others. Not to mention an autographed still of Cary Grant, personally inscribed: To Johnny Dee, Cary Grant.

Johnny Dee (on left) with Jayne Mansfield

I was in awe, especially with the photo of John with Jayne Mansfield; that blew my movie loving mind. That photo was too cool. How many of us can even say that we saw Mansfield in person, nevermind having your picture taken with her! These were some serious photos John told me I could take home and copy for my article. However, the photos were not in the best of condition. Many were cracked and splitting with age. Without asking John (and I should have), I repaired the photos the best I could with archival tape, placed them in plastic sleeves and put them in a black three-ring binder. On the cover I inscribed, using a silver paint pen, Johnny Dee - Poli Palace.

Johnny Dee (on right) with Denise Darcell

A few days later I gave the photos back to John. John thanked me for fixing them up and putting them in the binder. I told him the photos were well worth preserving as they are a part of movie history, not to mention evidence of his illustrious career as Worcester’s premiere theater manager. I asked him if he ever regrets leaving Connecticut and settling in Worcester. John said he loved Worcester and was glad he came here. He said he met many lovely families from Worcester and raised a family of his own here. John, along with his lovely wife of 50 years, Patricia, live just two streets down from me. Johnny Dee assures me as soon as the weather breaks, he is going to stop by and visit the House Of Poe to see my collection. I meet with Johnny Dee everyday now at Honey Dew and we reminisce about Worcester, easier times, classic movies and all the grand old movie theaters of a bygone era.

Elaine Stewart

AFTERWORDS: Meeting with my new old friend Johnny Dee every morning is a great pleasure. John is certainly a Worcester icon and an important part of its historic past. Many mornings, over coffee, I have observed just how popular he really is. John is constantly acknowledging or saying “hi” to people. Many of them are old friends from his days at the Palace and some are new friends, who have no idea of his colorful, interesting past. People just see Johnny Dee as a “sweet little old Italian guy”.

His showbiz-style personality still shines through, making everyone he greets feel like an old friend. I always believed people meet for a reason and not by chance. The reason for me finding Johnny Dee after all these years was not just to do this article, although it has connected us in a special way. I believe the fate of our meeting lies in the future. I not only found the former manager of the Poli Palace, but a new friend, and a very special human being.

With the completion of this piece I found myself longing for the old days. I suppose living in the past is not a healthy life to live. But like a Twilight Zone episode, I can’t help but wanting to go back, if not forever, at least for a day, an hour, or perhaps for a few minutes. I guess it’s just time slipping through my fingers. But I can still visit those old theaters in my mind, where no wrecking ball can ever reach them, where I sit peacefully watching movies for all of eternity.

I want to thank THE WORCESTER TELEGRAM for their old theater photos, and photos of the ELM, POLI, CAPITOL, PLYMOUTH, PHILLIPS, WARNER and FINE ARTS, are property of the WORCESTER TELEGRAM photo archives and may not be reprinted without permission of the WORCESTER TELEGRAM editor. I also would like to thank the staff at the WORCESTER PUBLIC LIBRARY for their help and putting up with my many visits. And, of course, a very special thank you to Johnny Dee for sharing his memories and making me feel young again, sitting in the dark, watching the movies of my dreams.

“I’ll be seeing you in all those old familiar places”– Freddie Poe aka Dr Vollin MD

Monday, June 24, 2013

With the kind permission of Brian Bukantis (Arena Publishing) and the author Dr. Vollin (Freddie Poe), I'm happy to be able to reprint Dr. V's article, They Tore Down Paradise...And Put Up a Parking Lot, which originally appeared in the May issue of Movie Collector's World, No. 683, 2005. Here's Part 4.

Inside the Loew's Poli in the 1960s

Did you know that in 1957 90 million patrons a week attended the movies.
In 1967 that number dwindled to 2 million.

OTHER WORCESTER THEATERS

In 1942 there were more than 16 theaters operating in Worcester: these included the Poli Palace; the Plymouth; the Strand; the Capitol; the Worcester Theater on Exchange St; the Pleasant; the Crystal on Trumbell Street; the Elm Street; the Regent on Elm Street; the Family; the Rialto; the Bijou on Millbury Street; the Court on Lincoln Square; the Vernon; the Columbia; the Royal, and the Gem. By 1966, only the Loew’s- Poli, the Warner, the Fine Arts, and the Phillips were still in operation. The rest had closed for good or for renovation. In 1977, only three remained open in the downtown area: the Showcase (Poli); the Paris (Capitol); and the Fine Arts (Pleasant Street Theater),with the latter showing foreign art films. Today, only the two “art” houses are in operation and possibly not for long.

Long gone are the days when you walked to the local theater to look at the posters to see what movie was coming next. A movie in those days was changed about every two weeks or so, unless it was a blockbuster and was held over, in which case a movie might stay indefinitely, or until everyone had seen it at least twice. Gone are the days when for one admission you could stay all day and see the movie as many times as you like. Gone,too, are the long lines extending around the block, causing empty neighborhoods on weekends because everyone was downtown at the movies. And gone were the double features, the spook shows, cartoons, and the newsreels, along with the ushers, the giveaways, and the cheap popcorn. Long gone is the classic movie, too.

ORDINARY TALES OF THEATER MADNESS

When I was about 5 years old and not old enough to wander Front Street by myself, my father would have one of his dishwashers, George, take me to the movies. George was known around Worcester as a hustler and a con man of sorts, but not violent in any way; just a fast talking guy with a lot of stories. If George asked you to borrow a $100 bill, in about 5 minutes you’d be gladly handing it over to him, and 10 minutes later you’d be asking yourself why you just did that. If my father gave him $2 to take me to Woolworth to buy me a monster model, George would say to me “nevermind those monsters, how about some nice Matchbox cars?” because Matchbox cars were much easier to put in your pocket. George would then get to keep the $2, which bought about 6 beers back then. Well, no dastardly deed goes without some kind of retribution and George got his on more than one occasion. Which brings us to the tales I am about to tell you.

Pollyanna at the Warner

My dad gave George some money and told him to take me to the movies. If my memory serves me well, it was to see Pollyanna at the Warner Theater, so I would estimate my age at about 5 or 6 years old. On the way to the Warner George must have seen someone he was trying to avoid, so we crossed Front Street. As we passed an alleyway, out popped a man.

“Georgie boy, hey I’ve been looking for ya.”

“I can’t talk now pal, I gotta take Freddie’s son to the movies,” said George.

“This will only take a second. Come down here,” said the man, indicating the alley. This is in broad daylight mind you.

“You wait here little buddy, I’ll be right back,” George instructed.

I watched as the man led George down the alleyway, and after a few choice words started beating George about the face and head. I stood frozen with fear, watching this for as long as it took. It must have only been a few seconds but it seemed like a long time. George emerged from the alleyway holding his handkerchief (remember those? yeechh) to his bloodied face. I looked up at George and said “George? Why did that man hit you?” He looked down at me, bloodied and beaten. “Don’t worry little buddy, he was just kidding around. That’s a good friend of mine.”

We headed down Front Street to the Warner, George holding the handkerchief to his bloody face and me checking on him every step of the way, horrified.

Pinocchio at the Poli

Pinocchio is my all time favorite Disney movie, maybe because he was an Italian. It was playing the Poli Palace and I asked my Dad if he would take me to see it. My father really never took me anywhere after he bought his restaurant in 1960; rather, I had male "nannies” and George was the main one. George, while being totally devious, was also one hell of an educator and always pointed me in the right direction, despite his own shortcomings. Anyway, we headed off to the grand old Poli Palace to see Pinocchio. We got there a little early, which gave me plenty of time to ogle the posters, get some snacks, and find the best seat in the house. I always liked to sit close to the screen, not in the first row but certainly in the first 10. George always let me pick out the seats. We sat, awaiting the cartoons, when a heavy set woman wearing a Carmen Miranda-type hat sat down in front of me. I don’t think it was a fruit bowl but it was certainly a flower basket. “George. I can’t see,” I said “Don’t worry pal, she’s gonna take her hat off when the movie starts.”

The movie started but the hat never came off.

“George. I still can’t see.”

“I’ll take care of this right now little buddy.” George leaned forward in his seat. “Madame. Could you kindly remove your hat, please, my little buddy can’t see the movie.”

The woman shrugged hers shoulder and made some kind of inaudible sound. “George. I still can’t see.” George tapped the woman on the shoulder a second time. “Madame. Kindly remove your hat. My pal can’t see the screen. I’m sure the movie means more to him than it does to you.”

She shrugged forward again, uttering the same groan. Steadfastly refusing to remove her hat.

“George, I can’t see. Can we move?” By now I was willing to sit elsewhere.

“We are not moving little buddy, we were here first. You only get three strikes in baseball and then you’re out of the old ball game. I’ve asked twice like a gentleman and now I have to take drastic action.” George leaned forward again. "Madame! I’ve asked you twice like a gentlemen to kindly remove your hat. My friend cannot see the screen! Three strikes and your out of the old ball game!”

Still the woman ignored George’s demand. He jumped out of his seat, ripped the hat off the lady’s head, and threw it like a frisbee across the Palace floor. It landed somewhere in the orchestra pit. The lady sprung from the chair, screaming bloody murder at the top of her lungs. Everyone in the theater was now staring at us. Within seconds the manager (Johnny Dee) came to see what the commotion was. Naturally, George knew the manager and we got moved to a different section instead of thrown out. I swear this is a true story, as I wouldn't want my nose growing any longer than it is. Thanks for everything George. Rest in peace, pal.

JOHN DIBENEDETTO - MANAGER - POLI PALACE - 1942 TO 1979

Johnny Dee with Lauren Bacall

John DiBenedetto was born in New Haven Connecticut on September 28th , 1921. In the mid 1930s, as a teenager, John was working at the Armstrong Tile Company in West Haven. He soon came to realize that factory work was not only hard labor, it was also dirty, but the country was recovering from the depression and decent paying jobs were hard to get. John started to think about what else he could do for work.

It was around this time he began his career in the movie theater industry, greatly influenced by his brother’s friend who was a theater manager in the Loew-Poli chain. When John would go to the movies, he would see this young man, neatly dressed in suit and tie, cordially greeting the patrons in the lobby, which, in those days, was an integral part of the job. This scenario impressed young John and he applied for a job as an usher.

In 1939, after serving his apprenticeship, John received a promotion to assistant manager and was placed at a Bridgeport Loew-Poli theater. He had found his niche. In 1940 he was offered a chance to advance to a managerial position in the Loew-Poli chain, but he would have to pack his bags and relocate to Columbus Ohio. John did one year in Columbus as manager, but he missed his family and longed to be back in New England. In 1942, the Loew-Poli chain then offered John a new position managing the Loew-Poli Palace in Worcester, a position he would hold for the next 37 years of his life.

Johnny Dee with Rosemary LaPlanche (on left)

John would stay on as manager of the Palace until 1979, even though the theater was sold to Redstone National Amusements in 1966. Affectionately known to many Worcesterites over the past four decades as Johnny Dee, his reputation and popularity are evident through searching old newspaper files and library archives. I was surprised to see how many times John’s picture was in the newspaper and how much weight John’s word carried around the Worcester movie scene. Johnny Dee was often pictured rubbing elbows with the stars and other Worcester notables.

Here is an excerpt from the Worcester Telegram And Gazette quoting Thomas Meehan (later went on to be a big time politician in Providence, Rhode Island), who was a theater manager in Worcester from 1912 to 1932:

Johnny Dee has a great reputation in showbiz. John is the type of guy who would have made it big in the old theater days (pertaining to the Vaudeville era); he can take responsibility, he shows good judgement and great showmanship, and he knows the people in his community. John has a great reputation across the country, he’s a good man.

This was just one of the many nice things said about Johnny Dee. Naturally, after meeting him, I was eager to hear stories about the good old days, the people he had met, did he save any memorabilia from the Poli?, and especially, what he thought of today's movies. John is still as gracious and sharp as he’s ever been as he told me the things I was anxious to know.

Johnny Dee with Tina Louise

First, I was eager to know what Johnny Dee thought about today's movies. He admitted to me that he had not been to the movies in years. The last time was to take his grandchildren, and that was some years back. He said he would rather watch the old classics on Turner. I couldn’t have agreed with him more. I seldom go to the movies myself.